chapter 3
The next morning, I acted like I had accepted reality.
I apologized to Chloe. I told her she had been right. I told her there was no point in us fighting anymore when we could both do well if we supported each other.
“For the next two months,” I said, “I just want to focus on studying.”
She watched me carefully, suspicious for only a second.
Then she relaxed.
Maybe because winning had made her careless.
Maybe because she had never believed I could threaten her in the first place.
Either way, once she thought I had given up, she stopped bothering me.
And without her constant interference, I threw myself into studying harder than I ever had before.
I lived at my desk.
Morning sets. Afternoon drills. Night reviews. Timed practice until my hand cramped and my eyes blurred.
Meanwhile, Chloe got bolder by the day.
At first, she only skipped evening study hall here and there. Then she started skipping full classes. Whole days at a time. I heard from classmates that she had gotten a boyfriend and had been going out with him constantly, staying out late, fighting, drinking, acting like graduation had already happened.
Whenever teachers or our parents caught her, she always brushed them off with the same smug line.
“I’ll still be number one on the real exam. Promise.”
And somehow, she kept getting away with it.
Because every school-wide mock test, every district simulation, every ranking check still ended the same way.
Chloe Lawson, first place.
I let it happen.
I gave her the illusion of certainty.
I let her believe the future was locked in. Let her sink into that fantasy until she trusted it more than hard work, more than preparation, more than reality itself.
And while she drifted further and further from the classroom, my own scores quietly climbed.
Seven hundred thirty-two.
Seven hundred thirty-six.
Seven hundred thirty-nine.
Then seven hundred forty-one on my own private timed papers at home.
The night before the real exam, Chloe went out partying with her boyfriend.
She called it an early celebration of college life.
I went to bed before ten.
I woke before sunrise and arrived at the test center early, carrying all the months of humiliation, anger, and fear like something sharp and burning inside my ribs.
I knew this was my one chance.
If I won, I could finally tear myself free.
If I lost, Chloe would ride on my back forever.
I sat down in that exam room more focused than I had ever been in my life.
And for the first time in a long time, the questions didn’t scare me.
They felt familiar. Friendly, almost. Like old rivals I had finally learned how to beat.
When the exam ended, Chloe was waiting for me outside.
“How was it?” she asked.
“Really good,” I said honestly. “Better than ever.”
Her whole face lit up.
That answer delighted her.
Of course it did.
Because to Chloe, my confidence only meant one thing.
She ran off smiling to tell our parents.
I watched her go and couldn’t stop myself from smiling too.
After the exam, Chloe was so convinced she had locked in first place that she started celebrating before the scores even came out. She squeezed a huge amount of spending money out of our parents, upgraded all her electronics, and even took a trip out of state with her boyfriend.
I wanted to visit my grandmother before college started.
When I asked for money for a bus ticket, both of my parents refused.
“It’s not a holiday,” Dad said. “Why go?”
“We don’t have money for that,” Mom added.
No money for me.
Plenty for Chloe.
That was the day I stopped hoping they would ever surprise me.
I got a part-time job, saved up the fare myself, and went to see my grandmother anyway.
The score release date landed on Chloe’s eighteenth birthday.
She turned it into a giant celebration, inviting relatives, family friends, coworkers, anyone she could find. It wasn’t just a birthday party. It was a coronation.
Everyone knew she expected to be the top scorer.
At the party, relatives kept praising my parents.
“The Lawson family really is blessed. Two daughters, both so smart.”
Dad sighed dramatically, pretending humility.
“Well, that’s true to a point. But my older daughter only has decent grades. She’s not affectionate at all. Chloe, though? She’s brighter than her sister and much more considerate.”
He praised Chloe while insulting me in the same breath, like always.
The younger guests crowded around her.
“Chloe, you’re definitely going to crush it.”
“If I scored even two-thirds as well as you, my parents wouldn’t be shipping me overseas for school.”
“You’re living the dream. A boyfriend in one hand and an elite college acceptance in the other.”
“When do scores go live? Check them here so we can all witness the big moment.”
Chloe stood there in a little party dress, chin high, waiting to be worshipped.
“Just wait,” she said. “If you’re ranked near the top in the state, top schools call ahead of time to recruit you.”
Top schools did call.
Just not her.
They called me.
In front of everyone, I picked up one admissions office call after another, listening as each school offered incentives and scholarships and told me they hoped I would consider them. I answered politely and said I was still deciding.
Chloe kept staring at her phone.
No call came.
Not one.
Finally she forced a smile and said, “The best always comes last.”
Then the score portal opened.
Everyone crowded around.
Dad looked at me first.
“How much did you get?”
“Seven hundred forty-one.”
The room erupted.
I kept my face calm, but inside, my heart was pounding so hard I thought I might faint.
It worked.
I had really done it.
Dad only nodded stiffly before turning away to focus on Chloe.
She had people pressed around both shoulders now, so close she had no way to hide the screen.
She stared at her score like she had stopped understanding language.
Then she said, voice shaking without meaning to, “Seven hundred fifty-one.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then someone laughed uncertainly.
Another relative blinked.
“Wait. Isn’t the full score seven hundred fifty?”
The whole room went still.
Chloe’s fingers began frantically refreshing the page.
“There must be a glitch. Too many people are checking at once. The system’s wrong.”
She refreshed again.
And again.
And again.
Every time, the number stayed the same.
751.
“How is that possible?” she whispered. “How is that possible?”
A friend tried to comfort her. “Try a different phone.”
So she snatched one from someone nearby.
Then another.
Then another.
Same result every time.
751.
That was when the police walked in.
“Chloe Lawson?” one of them asked. “We’re here regarding suspected exam irregularities. We need you to come with us.”
Chloe’s face turned white.
She backed away on instinct.
And my parents—my parents who had chosen her over me every single time—reacted without even thinking.
Dad shoved me forward.
“It’s her,” he said. “She’s Chloe. That’s Chloe.”
For one brief second, the betrayal was so familiar it barely even hurt.
Then I heard my own voice, clear and cold.
“No. I’m Avery Lawson. Her sister. Chloe is over there.”
I pointed directly at her.
Dad lunged toward me, furious, but I caught his wrist midair and held it.
“Touch me,” I said quietly, “and I’ll report you for assault.”
For the first time in my life, he actually stopped.
And in that moment, I understood something that made my spine straighten all by itself.
From now on, no one was going to control me.
No one was going to keep choosing me as the sacrifice.
Not ever again.